


Like Being in a Different Country

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biting, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Navy Yard exploits, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Virgin Steve Rogers, but it gets better for them together, kink list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets in over his head, Bucky brings him out, and their feelings are revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Being in a Different Country

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Steve is attacked at the beginning and the guy bites him. ): Please be warned if this might be a trigger for you. 
> 
> Bucky bites Steve again later, but in the good way. 
> 
> This is to fulfill my kink list entry for Biting and Bruises.

It got to be that Bucky had almost a sixth sense about Steve.  Who knows, maybe it was the sight… his aunt Edith had always claimed his grandmother, God rest her soul, knew the whereabouts of each of her children with pinpoint accuracy, had been waiting in the parlor in her best dress when the news arrived about her son Edwin’s death in the Great War.    
  
So when Bucky felt the pull, when he felt something wasn’t quite right with Steve and that he should go looking, he didn’t fight it.  He went.  
  
He found himself strolling closer and closer to the Navy Yard, getting madder and madder to keep himself from worrying.  What in the hell was Steve thinking, out by himself at this hour, in this neighborhood?  
  
Then he heard it — “Get your god damn hands off me!”  
  
Steve’s carrying voice, the deep and loud voice of a man much more able than Steve actually was, to back up his words.    
  
Bucky sped up his pace and came around the corner, peering down the alley to see the very thing he’d hoped to God he’d never see —  
  
Steve pinned, face up against a wall, some much bigger guy holding him in place, beefy hands on Steve’s narrow waist, and mauling Steve’s neck while Steve cursed and swore and struggled.  
  
Bucky couldn’t tell you how he did it; it felt like his feet had wings and his fists were made of iron, but in a flash he was down the alley and the guy was out cold, face down in a nasty, piss-smelling puddle.    
  
“Kick him over, Bucky,” Steve panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Don’t let him drown.”  
  
“Why the hell not?” Bucky growled, and didn’t even recognize his own voice.  He was aching for more violence, both fists ready for it.  
  
“Murder’s no good for your soul, James Barnes,” Steve said seriously, and so Bucky ungently kicked the guy over and hustled Steve home without another word.    
  
By the time they got back to Montague Street, the silence felt like lead.    
  
What was Steve doing in that alley in the first place? Bucky felt like he had a right to know, and knew he didn’t actually have that right. Steve was a grown man; his life was his own.  Bucky didn’t have the right to make his choices for him, as much as he might want to.  No one could wrap Steve Rogers up in cotton, not even Bucky, even though Bucky swore his friend couldn’t keep himself out of trouble to save his soul.  
  
Bucky was fuming by the time they got up to the fourth floor, inside their place and the door bolted behind them.  He reached up high and brought down the whisky, poured himself a shot and offered one to Steve.  He knew it was bad when Steve accepted.    
  
Bucky looked at Steve and Steve held up one finger.    
  
“Just let me clean up a little, Buck, before you start in, will ya?”  
  
Steve sounded so tired, so defeated, that Bucky's anger slipped away.  The shot still burned in the back of his throat, but he poured another for both of them while Steve hung up his jacket, threw his shirt in the laundry basket, and washed up good at the sink with cold water and plenty of soap.    
  
Bucky stared at the back of Steve’s neck.  A lurid bite bloomed there and Bucky couldn’t hardly take it — to see another man’s mark on Steve’s pristine skin, a mark like Bucky had always yearned to make, and never dared.  God damn it all to Hell.  
  
He threw back his second shot and poured another before Steve put on a clean undershirt and sat back down at the table.    
  
“Stupid, I know,” Steve admitted.  His hands were flat and lifeless on the table, his eyes downcast.    
  
Bucky couldn’t talk.  Every time he started to get his ire back up, Steve’s never-before-seen beaten-down attitude shut him up again.    
  
“The Navy Yard, though,” Bucky finally complained.    
  
“Just looking for a good time,” Steve said.    
  
“What?” Bucky said helplessly.    
  
“Don’t hate me,” Steve said, lifting his eyes to Bucky.  Bucky in all his years had never seen such a look in Steve’s eyes — big, sad, hopeless eyes, miserable and guilty.  
  
“What?” Bucky said again, lost.    
  
“I never meant for this…  for, for the way I am,” Steve gritted out, “to get on you.  I swear it, Bucky.  I never wanted it to touch you.”  
  
“The way you are?” Bucky said, after a while.  
  
“Queer,” Steve said, not a bit of fight left in the punk Bucky would kill a man to defend, as he damned himself with a word.  
  
“You ain’t queer,” Bucky denied, his heart pounding.  
  
“I am, though,” Steve said, listlessly.    
  
“But Steve,” Bucky said, and he thought about what a rock solid friend Steve was, what a spitfire, how he’d never shut up about whatever was bothering the Socialists that month,  how beautiful he was, and how much he loved him.  
  
“What?” Steve said.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Bucky said helplessly.  “You … you didn’t want … I heard you fighting him off.”  
  
“He was taking liberties,” Steve said, and a little bit of the old fire came back into his eyes, which made Bucky want to cry with relief.    
  
“Taking liberties in an alley?” Bucky said, riled up a little in turn.  
  
“He said I was a cocktease.  Maybe that’s what I am,” Steve said, and his face fell again.  
  
Bucky tried to breathe and it was so hard.  His chest was too tight.  This was like Steve’s asthma, maybe, that horrible crushing feeling Steve lived with every day.  
  
“I woulda killed him,” Bucky choked, “for laying hands on you.  And now you’re telling me you wanted it?”  
  
Steve hung his head.  “I’m sorry, Bucky, I never meant for this to touch you.”  
  
“God damn it, Steve,” Bucky shouted. “I’m trying to understand!”  
  
Steve looked at him and Bucky looked back.  
  
“Tell me how you got in that alley and don’t leave anything out,” Bucky demanded.  
  
Steve took a deep breath and let it out. “I went to the Blue Pearl.”  
  
“Punk!” Bucky exclaimed.  
  
Steve glared at him and Bucky shut up.  He wanted Steve’s story, he was gonna get it.  
  
“Bucky, you know you go out two and three times a week when you got a dime to spare,” Steve railed.  “I don’t see why I can’t go out one time, when I sell a cartoon.”  
  
“You sold a cartoon?” Bucky said, mood lifting for a second.    
  
“Yeah, five bucks, and they commissioned three more for this month,” Steve said, “So I thought I’ll go out and get a drink and see how the other half lives.”  
  
“The other half,” Bucky said.  
  
“The queers,” Steve said, and lifted his chin a little higher.    
  
Bucky nodded and kept his mouth shut.  He had no right to judge.  
  
“It was nicer than I expected.  Seemed like it was full of dames, till I figured out they were fairies, dolled up real nice, with wigs and dresses and jewels and all.”  
  
“Hot damn,” Bucky said.  
  
“You said it.  The gents there didn’t seem so different from at any other bar or dance hall, the ones in suits I mean, but the look in their eyes… they were sizing each other up.  It was like being in a different country I guess.”  
  
“Well, I’ll thank my lucky stars you didn’t go straight to a bath house,” Bucky said.  
  
“I wasn’t aiming to take off my clothes on a first date!” Steve backtalked primly.    
  
Bucky laughed. He was glad Steve’s fight was coming back.  Steve Rogers without any fight left was a sight he never wanted to see again.  
  
“So you ended up in an alley with that ugly lug, how?” Bucky said.    
  
“He was nice at first,” Steve frowned.  “Bought me a drink.  Told a few jokes, made me laugh.  Said I had a nice smile. Said he’d walk me home.”  
  
“God damn it,” Bucky seethed.  
  
“Then he turned me down an alley and I couldn’t fight him off,” Steve said.  He touched the back of his neck where the mark was.   “Is it bad?” he asked.    
  
“The worst,” Bucky said, and then screwed up his courage.  “Because it wasn’t me that put it there.”  
  
Steve’s mouth fell open.  His eyes flew wide.  His face went pale.  “Bucky?” he said.  
  
Bucky and Steve didn’t sit far apart. They liked to read the paper together in the morning, so they kept their chairs bunched at one end of the table.  
  
Bucky kind of fell out of his chair toward Steve.  His knees hit the ground and he looked up at Steve.    
  
“If you’re queer, then we’re in it together,” Bucky declared.  “You’ve been it for me since the first day we met.”  
  
“Bucky, no,” Steve frowned.  “The dames!”  
  
“Forget the dames,” Bucky said.  “Good for dancing, sure, but you — Steve, you gotta know you mean everything to me. Every god damn thing. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you, Stevie.  Didn’t I get us this apartment? Don’t I bring my paycheck home to you to pay our bills? Don’t I take care of you when you get sick?”  
  
Steve just stared at him.  “But…” Steve said. “I’m the one that’s made all wrong.  How can you… you’re perfect.”  
  
“Shit, Steve, if that ain’t the biggest lie!” Bucky laughed, still on his knees, staring up into Steve’s confusion. “I sure as hell ain’t perfect.  But if you give me the chance, I’ll treat you so good.  Can I, Stevie?”  
  
Steve swallowed and leaned back a little. “What? Can you what?” he asked.  
  
Bucky found Steve’s hands and clasped them in his own. They were cold like always, and sweaty from the stress.  
  
“If you want a man,” Bucky whispered, “you don’t gotta go looking.  You could have me, if you want.”  
  
“Bucky,” Steve gasped.  
  
“Is that a yes?” Bucky prompted.  “I never knew we were the same, Steve.  I never thought of it as queer.  I just knew how much I loved you, how I wanted you as close as I could get, beside me, always.”  
  
Steve shook his head a little.  “Yes.  I think. I mean, that’s a lot to take in, all at once.”  
  
“‘Yes, I think,’ is good enough to start with,” Bucky said.  He reached behind him for the shot of whisky Steve hadn’t drunk.    
  
“Drink this,” he said, so Steve did, and when the glass hit the table, Bucky kissed him.  
  
Steve was right about one thing. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had ever been kissed.  You take a dame dancing, they expect a good night kiss, and maybe a little more, or they might turn you down the next time.  So Bucky had learned how to kiss, and he knew he was good at it.    
  
Steve’s mouth was soft and full and sweet with the taste of whisky.  He clearly didn’t know what he was doing.    
  
“Stevie, let me do this right,” Bucky said.  
  
“What? How?” Steve said.    
  
“Well, I usually prop a dame up against the wall, so she doesn’t fall over when her knees give out,” Bucky bragged, “but I hope you won’t think I’m too forward if I invite you to our bed?”  
  
They had always pushed the beds together because Steve got sick if he got too cold at night.  
  
“Okay,” Steve said, and looked at Bucky with so much trust in his eyes that Bucky’s head swam.    
  
They kicked off their shoes and lay back. Steve was a good six inches shorter than Bucky but lying down evened out the difference.  
  
“Put your head on my arm,” Bucky instructed.  Steve put his head on Bucky’s left bicep, holding himself a little tense. Steve was bony and sharp where dames were rounded and soft. No one had ever felt so good in Bucky’s arms, so familiar, the wonderful home safe smell of Steve filling Bucky’s senses.  
  
“Close your eyes,” Bucky said, and Steve closed his worried eyes.  Bucky stroked the frown line between Steve’s brows with a gentle finger until it smoothed out.  
  
“There,” he whispered.  “That’s better.  Nothing to worry about, Stevie.  I’ll take care of you, I swear.”  
  
“Hurry up about it,” Steve complained.    
  
Bucky laughed and captured the bossy lips with his own, sucking and biting just a little until Steve relaxed and started kissing back.  Bucky tested Steve with a little bit of tongue, and Steve moaned, giving in and letting Bucky lead. It was Heaven, breathing Steve’s warm breath, feeling Steve respond and try to kiss back.  He was tentative and biddable, not at all what Bucky would have expected.    
  
“Baby doll,” Bucky murmured, “you’re so good, so perfect.”  
  
“Ohh, Bucky,” Steve moaned, pressing closer to him.  Steve was hard, pressing against his thigh.  It made Bucky pause.  He’d never thought about touching a man, tried to keep his gaze modest all these years with Steve in close quarters, and now — here Steve was, hard for him, feeling all the things Bucky had always tried to think away.    
  
“Steve — can I touch you?” Bucky found himself asking.  
  
“Yeah — do it — I want you so much,” Steve said.    
  
Bucky stroked down Steve’s sides, kissing all the while.  He lay his free right hand gently on Steve’s hip, stroking his side.  All of Steve, all his, to touch and kiss — he’d never dared dream this moment would ever be real.    
  
Slowly, he moved his hand across Steve’s belly, and Steve lay flatter on the bed, to give Bucky better access.    
  
“Please, Bucky — touch me,” Steve begged.    
  
Bucky didn’t dare move too fast, no matter what Steve said.  He lay his hand, soft, across the front of Steve’s trousers, settling his hand against the hardness of Steve’s erection, straining behind layers of cloth.    
  
“Oh, oh, Bucky,” Steve said.  His body shook, overwhelmed by the loving touch of Bucky’s hand.    
  
“How far,” Bucky asked, his voice shaking with emotion.  “How far do you want me to go here, Steve?”  
  
“Oh!  I don’t know, I just want — I — Bucky!” Steve moaned.    
  
“No, Steve,” Bucky said firmly. “You gotta keep your wits together this first time.  You gotta say exactly how you want it to go — okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Steve said, taking a breath.  He opened his eyes and looked at Bucky, so serious, trying to get a hold of himself.  “I know guys do — certain things — I’m not ready to do — all of that,” Steve said, blushing hard.  “I want, I just want you to kiss me, hold me, make me feel like it’s okay — touch me, make me feel good — make us both feel good — together.”    
  
Bucky knew how to do that.  He did it all the time with the dames. They trusted him not to take it too far, too fast, to make them feel good without going all the way.    
  
“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Bucky swore.  “You’ll never look at another guy again.”  
  
Bucky took away his hand and Steve keened and arched after it.    
  
“Trust me,” Bucky said and Steve nodded, panting.  
  
Bucky framed Steve’s gorgeous face with his hand. “God, Steve, I want you,” he whispered, and kissed him with all the passion he felt inside, devouring Steve, letting Steve know just how much Bucky wanted him.    
  
“I want to be on top of you,” Bucky said, “just let me know if I’m too heavy.”  
  
Bucky rolled over, taking his weight on his elbows, and fitted himself between Steve’s legs.  Their clothes were all on, but Bucky knew Steve had never been so intimate with anyone else before.  Even all this time, sleeping front to back in their nightclothes, Bucky had been able to turn away from Steve, just enough, when it got to be too much.  Now, they were face to face, belly to belly, groin to groin, and it was like too halves had at long last come together.  Steve was a feast laid out underneath him that Bucky couldn’t help but savor.    
  
“Oh, that feels good,” Steve said, staring up at Bucky, eyes blown wide and hazy with arousal.    
  
Bucky kissed and nuzzled at Steve, kissing his jaw, exploring his neck with gentle kisses, listening to the beloved sounds of Steve’s breathing — the little wheeze that he never quite got rid of, but no worse than ever — feeling the pounding of Steve’s heart next to his own.    
  
He nipped at Steve’s neck, here and there, testing to see what Steve liked best.    
  
“Oh — there!  oh, Bucky!” Steve moaned, and arched his neck away, offering more.  Bucky couldn’t stand that there was a mark on Steve that he hadn’t put there — it made the urge rise up in him to bite and mark and claim.    
  
“Want you, Steve — want you to be mine,” Bucky moaned. He felt Steve hard against him, and gave a little thrust.  God, it felt good.    
  
“Yes, yes Bucky, I’m all yours, I swear,” Steve said.    
  
“I want, I want to mark you, Steve — tell me no and I won’t, I promise,” Bucky urged.  
  
Steve moaned, arching up against Bucky.  “Do it — “ he said.    
  
Bucky couldn’t hold back any more.  Just there, at the join of his neck and shoulder, when he kissed there, Steve arched and whined, and Bucky bit down, sucking a bruise — he wanted to mark Steve up, so anyone would know Steve was taken — so Steve and Bucky themselves would know.  Steve would always be his own man, but he belonged to Bucky so deep that no one could ever get between them.  
  
“Harder — “ Steve said, “I’m so close, Bucky!”  
  
Bucky sucked and licked and bit at the mark; all the while his hips were dancing against Steve’s, delicate and teasing and irresistible, moving against Steve in a rhythm as old as time.  
  
Steve tensed up and whined and that was it — Bucky felt it as Steve let go — the tremors and pulsations as Steve spilled between them — Bucky thought, I did that, and followed Steve over the edge with a choked off cry.    
  
His brain shorted out. Everything was Steve, and oh so good.  He never collapsed though — he nuzzled Steve’s neck, and carefully rolled to the side.    
  
Bucky listened to Steve as he caught his breath, and everything settled back down to normal.  
  
“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve swore.    
  
“Nope, still James Buchanan,” he corrected, laughing a little.    
  
“Kiss me again,” Steve demanded, so Bucky rolled on his side and kissed Steve lazily.  
  
“You gonna be bossy about this too?” Bucky said.    
  
“Too!” Steve retorted.  “Not all the time,” Steve said in a softer voice.  “I kinda liked doing what you liked.”  
  
“I could tell you kinda liked it,” Bucky said breezily.  “I kinda did too.”  
  
“We can do more,” Steve said, “if you want.”  
  
“Oh, I want,” Bucky said.  “Just you name it.”  
  
“Okay,” Steve said, smiling, the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.  
  
“Okay,” Bucky agreed, and mysteriously, somehow, the evening that had gotten off to such a terrible start ended with smiles and kisses:  they were okay.    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment of any kind letting me know what you thought. Your kudos and comments make it all worth it! :D
> 
> Next up : Bloodplay! (the kink list I have is so hardcore!)  
> [Let me know if you have kinks to add to the list!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3507143)  
> You are also welcome to leave more specific prompts in the comments to these stories. :)


End file.
